The word "eye contact" referred to looking into someone else's eyes while that person looked back at you.
When two gazes collided and both people stared directly into each other's eyes, that was eye contact.
At that moment, the man was unsure whether he was making eye contact with his son. The boy's two eyeballs had been forced out of their sockets by his severely twisted and deformed face, with only some tissue still connecting them and keeping them from falling out.
Yet they could still move. Two pupils, almost too small to see, met the man's gaze.
The father and son stared at each other from less than ten meters apart.
On that already twisted and deformed face, the mouth and sharp teeth took up most of the space. Like the mouth of a ruminant, it was covered in tentacles and fleshy spikes.
Even his teeth had changed. His wide-open mouth held more teeth and more fangs, making him look terrifying and ferocious.
There actually wasn't much meat in the refrigerator, only a few protein bars. So aside from its deformed appearance, the mouth wasn't dripping with blood.
The man swallowed and asked, "Who are you?"
He didn't believe this person was his son. Even though the person before him was wearing his son's clothes, he refused to believe it.
Tears slowly welled up in his eyes, seeming to protest his stubbornness. He tightened his grip on the screwdriver and shouted loudly for his wife.
Perhaps staring at him for so long had made his son uncomfortable. After all, his eyeballs were almost squeezed out. Or perhaps the man's voice had disturbed him.
His body suddenly sank downward. Planting both hands on the ground in a posture humans could hardly assume, like a frog, he lunged at the man!